


A Better Man

by NomadicPixel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluffy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24637987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NomadicPixel/pseuds/NomadicPixel
Summary: Previously posted on Tumblr.Prompt: Maybe you could write something where the reader goes through a break up and the guys are like who do I have hurt.Author’s note: So I went a slightly different direction here, but I hope you enjoy it.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 84





	A Better Man

**Author's Note:**

> This story depicts and discusses emotional/verbal abuse. Abuse is not okay. No person has the right to humiliate or dehumanize another person.

So many red flags. Looking back on it made it easy to see. Hindsight is 20/20. 

He hated it when you went out with coworkers. Whenever it was time to attend a party at the tower, he would get a migraine and ask you to stay and take care of him. There were hundreds of them over the past few months, but you kept telling yourself you were being too picky. That Curtis was a good-looking guy. That you were lucky to get a guy like that. 

Every day you spent with him took a tiny bit of your soul. And three months in, you finally reached the point where you’d had enough. 

He’d insisted on taking you out for dinner, demanded you wear that dress he liked. You felt it was too low cut. And on a busy Friday night took you to a New York hot spot. 

Without a reservation. 

No problem. You understood. They were packed, and you were okay waiting. Curtis was not.

“What’s the point in dating a fucking Avenger if I can’t get a damn table? Huh? She helped save the world yesterday, and you’re making us WAIT?”

You were absolutely humiliated. 

That you would date someone who would act like this in public shamed you. And you knew better, because it’s exactly how it was in private. To you. You could put up with a lot of things, but seeing good people bullied for his lack of planning flipped a switch. 

Which is why you walked home. 

Alone.

In the rain. 

And when you broke the heel off of one of your favorite shoes in a sidewalk grate, well, shit. That was just the fucking cherry on top. 

* * *

You walked into the common room, carrying your shoes, and cursing that the elevators wouldn’t take you directly to your apartment. 

Sam sat up in alarm. When he caught your eye, you shook your head, letting him know you didn’t want to chat. 

No. 

You wanted to scream. 

Instead, you changed into your training clothes and marched down to the gym. You were intent on taking out your rage on a literal punching bag. 

_Little did I know that’s how I’ve been acting for the last few months. What the fuck is wrong with me?_

You were not focusing on form. Each punch channeled the rage into a single strike. In your mind, you weren’t hitting a punching bag. 

You were punching Curtis’ stupid face. 

Over.

And over. 

“What did that poor punching bag do to you?” a throaty voice rumbled from behind you. 

_Fuck. It HAD to be Bucky._

Your not so tiny crush on Bucky had been why you’d said yes to Curtis in the first place. 

You landed another solid punch to the bag, responding between jabs. 

“Well, first it stole my candy,” you grunted, landing a firm left hook to the bag. “And then it cheated on me with the treadmill.” The bag shuddered with your badass right cross. “I can’t let that stand.” 

Bucky slid between you and the bag, taking your unwrapped hands in his. His hair was in a man bun, with a few tendrils escaping to frame his angular face. 

“While stealing candy from a lovely lady is indeed an egregious crime, I will have to end its beating. You’re doing more damage to yourself than you are the bag.”

_What?_

You blinked. You looked down at your hands for the first time. You had felt no pain. The anger and adrenaline alone had fueled you. 

You badly bruised your fists, the knuckles on your dominant hand split open and bleeding. 

“Fuck.” 

Bucky tutted, leading you to the bench at the side of the gym. “Language. Keep that up and I may have to tell Steve.”

You sat on the bench while Bucky grabbed the first aid kit. You’d often patch each other up in the Quinjet, giving each other shit as you cleaned, stitched and patched as needed. 

As Bucky worked, his caustic sense of humor came out. “Okay young lady, tell Dr. Bucky where it hurts,” he teased as he started to clean your knuckles. 

“My hands are fine, I can’t even feel it, Buck,” you muttered, wanting to be anywhere but there. 

His hands deftly stitched your knuckles, finishing quickly, but not letting go of your hands. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. You’ve had worse on a training exercise, I was thinking more in terms of…cardiology,” he murmured, thumbs rubbing over the back of your hands. 

“Sam,” you whispered, shaking your head. 

“He figured you were less likely to mess up my ugly mug than his,” Bucky teased, and shifted into your line of sight. “He’s not wrong. And I’m glad I came.” He placed an ice pack on your hand, cradling it in his own. 

He waited, and focused on the ice pack, arranging it this way and that while you had time to think. 

You took a breath, unsure of how to express the conflict you felt. 

* * *

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,” you mumbled, unable to look at Bucky. 

“Hey, that is okay. What you’re supposed to feel doesn’t matter. How do you feel? That’s what is important.”

You waited a beat, taking a calming breath. “Well, I’m angry.”

He let out a deep, throaty chuckle. “You don’t say?”

You shot him a look, your nose scrunching a bit. “Not just at Curtis. I’m mad at myself.”

Bucky did a double take. “Why are you mad at yourself?”

“Well, I let him manipulate me. I let him make me feel inferior. I put up with that crap. If I heard anyone treating any of our friends that way, I’d lay them out. And yet, for the last three months, I put up with it,” you sniffed, trying to hold in a sob. 

The last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of Bucky. 

Strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his lap. “Shhhh,” he hushed you, pulling you tight to him. You struggled a bit, still fighting to hold onto the anger to keep the tears at bay. 

“Let me go,” you whimpered. 

He’d held you like this before. It made you feel precious and delicate and loved. Which reminded you what you didn’t have with him. The last thing you wanted was to fall for Bucky all over again.

“If you want me to let you go because I’m making you uncomfortable, I will. But, if you want me to let you go because you don’t feel you’re worth comforting, that’s not going to happen.”

You let out a chuckle at that. “You know me too fucking well, Bucky.” You closed your eyes, resting your head on his broad shoulder. 

“Why do girls go for guys like that anyway? He was a jerk to you, Curt treated you like crap. Why would you be with someone like that? You should be someone’s entire world. You should be the reason they wake up in the morning. You should be the reason they want to be a better man.”

“You don’t understand. Guys don’t look at me that way. I’m pretty sure the likelihood of someone like me finding someone like that is zero. Why should I have to be alone?”

“All you need to do is open your eyes. You already have that. You don’t have to be alone.”

You opened your eyes to find Bucky’s face a hair’s breadth away from yours. His eyes were locked on yours. 

His eyes flickered down to your lips, and back to your eyes. You both closed the distance, your lips meeting in a soft, sweet, gentle kiss. 

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” you asked, your right hand cupping his jaw. 

“I wanted to be a better man.”


End file.
